No more. Just the line over the life. One or another, but always someone. Talking with myself about yourself. it isn't one the right way, it's just another thing for think.
Why the sky is so blue? I don't know the answer, but there are tears that carry down over street. Come from the sad eyes. The sad eyes come from the tallest girl. She is not my friend, but she is not my enemy. Just I don't know who's. The tallest girl comes from Santiago and Santiago don't have good thing for me.
It's like one over and over naked body. Without pain and without eyes. My eyes do not know to cry. But your desk is over and over painted. My favorite color is black, but you desk is not black.
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